


Your Love Awakens Me

by Scarlet_Nin



Series: Tua Tumblr stories [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Good Sibling Ben Hargreeves, Heart-to-Heart, If Vanya can bring people back to life so can Klaus, Making Up, Powerful Klaus Hargreeves, Protective Klaus Hargreeves, Temporary Character Death, The Umbrella Academy (TV) Season 2 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Nin/pseuds/Scarlet_Nin
Summary: "You said you didn't regret it," His voice wavers, the fear and dread churning in his stomach almost coming back up as he tries not to gag. "Just like Dad didn't."It's a low blow, a horrible thing to think let alone say out loud and the last time he'd said it Ben tackled him out of his body in anger.This time Ben shudders."I didn't–" he says, uncertain and shaky, a whisper of the boy drenched in blood peeking through. "I just wanted...you wouldn't listen."("I didn't mean to," Six said, wide-eyed and shivering, hands hugging his stomach.)Klaus hides the tears in the crook of Ben's neck and says, "I know."Or, in which the bullet kills Five too, leading to a heart to heart between Four and Six and Klaus Immortality doesn't just extend to himself.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone
Series: Tua Tumblr stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880011
Comments: 59
Kudos: 667





	Your Love Awakens Me

Five used to lecture them over the importance of time. How a single moment could change, for better or worse, the construction of reality and the course of the world and space. All done in a flimsy second. With _math_. At that point Klaus had turned him and his obsessive ramblings about time travel out–his short attention span not to blame for once. Math was boring and hard and languages came easier to him than the boring old numbers he came to hate. Sue him for zoning out in the throes of his high. Five was known for offering vague explanations that lacked details–dear ol' Dad sure pissed him off with taking away credit points during tests for only writing the solution down rather than the process of getting there.

So, it's not Klaus' fault for checking out halfway through Five's maniac rants.

At least, he understood. 

Not the mindless scribblings of numbers on Five's bedroom walls. Hell no. He barely got what his own walls said, covered in a clusterfuck of his own handwriting. What Klaus _did_ get was what Five meant, probably better than anyone else. 

Life was made up of moments, flashes of seconds turned into hours, days, weeks and years. 

The moment time stopped, death took its place. 

Reggie must've gotten the number order mixed up with Five and him. Not that any of that matters anymore. Time proved itself to be a bitch, just like Five sometimes did and no wonder those two got along so well–and their split second was over.

By a roaring noise of bullets.

This isn't better, though it's not worse and Klaus long ago learnt that purgatory was better than hell. Seeing how he's currently choking on the bile like blood swelling up in the back of his throat, his perception might be screwed. And a teeny tiny bit biased. 

Death was a fact of life. No more aches and blood left to spill across the scratchy hay-layered floor of an old barn. Whoopty doo! It's finally over. 

He got shot in the lung, has to see Allison choke around a shaky breath, face ashen, the whites of her eyes popping out as her body twitches, while his family and Diego's new flame bleed out under the icy roof of Vanya's gay awakening. 

It's cold, the air crisp on his tongue as he wills himself to move, longing to reach out towards Allison's tear-stained face a mere few feet out of his reach. 

_It's okay_ , his quivering lips try to mouth, _we're okay._

A cough rattles his bones, fills his lungs with more blood as the edges of his vision grows darker, dimmer. Allison's form becomes a blob of a black smudge. He can't see anyone else from here, sprawled out across the dirty floor that smelt of an animal zoo, but he can hear whimpering, a groan that might be Diego's.

Fitting, how they all wore black to their own funerals. Irony's a bitch.

He welcomes the icy chill seeping into his bones, past the hot sticky blood staining his coat. Klaus sinks into the numbness spreading from his chest, his heartbeat slowing its fast butterfly wings pace, with a shaky sounding sigh. 

Time to move on to eternal peace, he thinks, close to wheezing out a last laugh. His breath shutters mid-gasp as his lung collapses in itself, crumbling like their house did during Vanya's tantrum of rage. 

Hopefully, he's the last one to go.

* * *

  
  


If Klaus thought a different timeline got him a clean start, or end, he was wrong. 

Clearly, God remembers him just fine judging from her scowl. 

"You," she forces out through gritted teeth. 

Klaus gives a jittery little wave. "Me," he says, scrambling off the ground to stretch. A quick glance down has him grimace, the dark colors of his outfit clashing horridly with the unhealthy paleness of his skin. 

Which suits the afterlife just fine. With its eerily lack of colors, he's basically a native now. Adapting to the dress-code for once in his life even if it's the life after death, Daddy would have been so proud of him for following the rules.

"Can't believe this place didn't change its color scheme since my last visit, but I gotta say after living in the early sixties for a bit, I can dig the whole black and white movie schtick." 

Klaus nods, eyeing the road they're standing in the middle of. 

"Gave me a new appreciation for colorblindness, y'know?"

She looks at him like he trampled over her favorite flower bed. "I don't care." 

"What a charming way to make a guy feel welcome." Klaus raises an eyebrow, tone dry. God didn't look very impressed. Good. Trying to conjure a symbalance of manners when he's literally dead on his feet wouldn't work out any better than his first attempt of doing so with a ghost in the face of her disapproval. 

"Did I get your floor wet on my way into paradise or are we close enough to forego all hospitality? I mean, this is our second date, so–" 

She cuts him off, firm and harsh. 

"I still don't like you." 

Klaus can't help the snort that slips out on accident. 

"Wow. Tell me how you really feel." 

"You're not only wasting my time but yours as well," she talks over him like he hadn't spoken at all. She pulls a face, pointing towards something he can't see when facing her. "So, go on and hurry up. He's waiting for you and I'm not scheduling another appointment for you. I'm not your secretary." 

Klaus blinks in surprise. "Who–"

His first thought strays to his Dad. Which is dumb, considering Reggie's not dead yet and doesn't know him well enough to yell at him for all his shortcomings, though he'd find a way to critise him regardless of only having spoken to Klaus once. Daddy was his biggest hater in life and death, with or without history to tie them together.

It can't be Dave either. Klaus made sure of that. He grimaces, hands coming up to clasp at the dog tags around his neck.

The girl wrinkles her nose. "Who do you think?" She rolls her eyes, looking like she's done with their conversation, or maybe just him in general. "Clearly, your influence rubbed off on him more than I thought. He had no business staying out after curfew while you arrived early."

Realization – and glee – is dawning on Klaus' face. 

"Ben!"

Turning on his heels, coat flapping from the force of his turn that nearly sends him tripping over his feet, he races off towards the old rundown building in the distance, without sparing the little girl a second glance. 

Gravel crunches under his boots as he runs, the trees looming over him leading up to the small broken steps of a double wooden door he runs into with a startled yelp of pain.

"Pull not push," he mumbles to himself, rubbing at his nose. The door creaks as he pulls it open and steps inside, falling shut behind him with a heavy thud.

He barely flinches, the sound all too familiar to the mausoleum. Thankfully, the lights don't shut off in response. 

"Urgh, really?" Klaus groans. "A freaking library? That's so clicheé for you, Ben. Trust me, you don't want to fit into the stereotype, you dork."

The library is bigger than what it looked like on the outside, the vast space filled to the brim with old shelfs full of books. Klaus walks past the desk at the front, footsteps echoing off the walls and high ceiling, where a chandelier hangs, lightning up the dark wooden shelves and casting an orange glow over the pristine checkered floor. 

It reminds him of the Academy library. Of the days he spent looking for Ben when he needed a bit of company to chase away the ghosts. The dusty scent of books surrounding them as they huddled close at one of the study tables, heads sticking together, knees always touching while sitting in a spot where the sun would shine through the high windows, never in the dark corners with the lurking shadows. 

Ben would read to him, or play out the dialogue in funny voices, shushing him gently whenever they got too loud and in turn Klaus would grab a few snacks on his visits, or a book on languages to study for a bit when Ben needed a bit of quiet reading space. Sometimes, they got away with sneaking in hot chocolate Mom made for them before Pogo caught them, but Ben, despite finding Klaus' inability to stop fidgeting annoying, never sent him away. 

Chances are, he won't get kicked out now either. Not that Klaus would let himself be dragged out kicking and screaming by his hair–not before he had a few words with Ben about leaving without saying goodbye. 

After all these years, the lows and highs, Ben had no business fucking off into the afterlife, light, whatever without warning. 

That had been the reason Klaus conjured him in the first place after his funeral. For a proper goodbye. Only he chickened out at the last second like the pussy Diego accused him of being.

But _still._

Wrong foot or not, he loved Ben, possession included mistakes and all. 

And the little shit let him wallow in his guilt for years. Oh, they were going to have words and not pretty ones. 

"Beeen," he calls out, loud enough to get escorted out of a normal library for shattering the noise level.

"Benerino! Benjamin, Benny-booooy!" 

He cups his hands around his mouth, walking through the halls and between the shelfs.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," he sing-songs, peeking around corners. 

No answer. No sight of the familiar black jacket. Nothing. 

Was Ben ignoring him? Rude. 

"Bentacles! Big Ben! Benji! Bejamina!" 

"Don't you know how to keep your voice down?" 

A voice speaks up behind him and Klaus shrieks, twisting around and tripping into a bookshelf while trying to steady himself. 

Ben purses his lips. "I'll take that as a no." 

"You can take that as a go to hell." Klaus stands up straighter, one hand holding his chest. "The fuck are you sneaking up on me for? Our less than stellar host told me you wanted to see me, did you change your mind or what?" 

Ben shifts on his feet, the armful of books he carries close to toppling over. 

"I got distracted." 

"Uh huh," Klaus says flatly, reaching over to take off a few books. Ben lets him, observing him with keen eyes over the remaining half of his tower. "I bet you were. Must be a wet dream come true for you to spend eternal peace in a library." 

"Not all of us would rather set a book on fire than to read it." 

"I'm just saying–" Klaus follows Ben over to a table already half covered in books, to dump the rest of them and free himself of the weight, flopping down in a chair. "–I was the first one to greet you when you died." 

Ben throws him a dry look. "You were the only one who could see me." 

Klaus nods, leaning back in his chair. 

"Yeah, but I wasn't the reason you stayed, now was I?"

Ben flinches, shoulders hunching up to his ears. "I thought that would make you happy," he says. "To hear you weren't the reason I was stuck." 

"Oh, it was a relief to hear, not gonna lie," Klaus barks out a laugh, too high-strung to sound genuine. "But happy? No. You know what would've made me happy? To hear that from you instead of Vanya. Maybe ten years earlier." 

"Klaus–" 

"No, Ben," Klaus slams a hand onto the table, resisting the urge to stand up or lunge across the table. "You let me think I was the reason you were stuck watching me fuck up for all these years–that _I_ fucked up your chance of going to heaven like I fuck up everything else–" one of his hands comes up to hold onto Dave's dog tags like a life line. " –and then," his voice catches, breath hitching as he leans across the table, trying to catch Ben's gaze. "and then, you _do_ fuck off in the middle of that shitfest of an argument and I'm suddenly all alone, knowing my last words to you were anything but what I wished them to be." 

"There was no time," Ben says, jaw clenching. "I couldn't–" 

"Eight hours." 

Ben swallowed what he wanted to say, lifting his head to stare at Klaus in bewilderment.

"What?" 

"Eight hours," Klaus repeats, blinking back tears. "Of wondering where you were. Why you wouldn't come when I tried calling for you. Of thinking you were still mad, that you hated me." 

Ben's mouth drops open, his eyes wide and if he hadn't placed his books on the table, they would have fallen to the floor. "What?" he croaks out, taking a step back. 

"It took Vanya eight hours to clear up that little misunderstanding." Klaus' lips stretch into a smile that's too wide to be real, a rubber band close to snapping. "Not that I can blame her, there was a lot going on and breaking bad news had never been her strength." 

Ben doesn't appear to know what to say to that, staring at him like he's speaking in a foreign language. 

"Klaus," he finds his voice after a minute of heavy silence and it's rough, flinty like his eyes that won't leave Klaus' as he says, "You absolute moron." and stalks around the table to pull him out of his chair. 

Klaus tenses, recoiling with the sting of the words as Ben tugs him upwards– 

"Fuck you, Ben," he spits out, ready for another throw of hands on the floor instead of on the side of a road in the blazing heat.

–right into his arms. 

Klaus freezes, the building wave of anger going down the drain when arms sneak around his back, one hand coming up to the back of his head to coax his cheek onto a leather-clad shoulder.

Oh.

Ben is hugging him. Close and tight like he used to do when the ghosts were too much and he needed someone to tell him he would be alright. 

"Ben?" he asks, voice smaller than it had been in years. 

"Fuck you too," his brother responds into the shell of his ear. "For thinking I spent all these years looking after your scrawny junkie ass for nothing." The arms tighten around him and Ben huffs out a sigh. "Hug me back, dumbass."

Out of reflex Klaus does, because he always loved affection and he can't risk the chance of missing out on giving Ben a hug again. 

"It's not like that." 

Klaus doesn't know why he tries to defend himself, give an explanation to the one person who knows him the best, when nothing good comes out of his mouth, but the urge runs away with him and hopefully Ben won't do the same afterwards. 

"I just...ghosts always have a breaking point. Y'know when they go badshit bonkers and you were a ghost for so long and when you...and then you possessed me and I kept thinking…" 

Ben stiffens in his hold, understanding what he's trying to say through the scarps of words. 

"You were scared of me," he breathes out. 

_No!_ Klaus wants to shout, to lie, to get the guilt out of Ben's voice, but the words die on his tongue and in the end he says nothing at all save for the little choking noise that crawls out of the back of his throat. 

"I scared you," Ben says, quietly like he can't believe it. 

"I kept thinking you broke," Klaus admits shamefully, fingers clinging to the back of Ben's jacket. "That I pushed you too far and I get it, really, I was a dick, not manifesting you for the others, so of course you'd take a way out. I had it coming, I know, but you wouldn't get out and I was trapped and...and you wouldn't let me out, Ben–" 

He stops, breath unsteady and thick with tears. He's shaking and crying, feeling like he's thirteen again, stepping fresh out of the dark and the reach of the ghosts.

"You said you didn't regret it," His voice wavers, the fear and dread churning in his stomach almost coming back up as he tries not to gag. "Just like Dad didn't." 

It's a low blow, a horrible thing to think let alone say out loud and the last time he'd said it Ben tackled him out of his body in anger. 

This time Ben shudders. 

"I didn't–" he says, uncertain and shaky, a whisper of the boy drenched in blood peeking through. "I just wanted...you wouldn't listen." 

_"I didn't mean to," Six said, wide-eyed and shivering, hands hugging his stomach._

Klaus hides the tears in the crook of Ben's neck and says, "I know." 

He did. Ben never liked hurting anyone, less of all his own family. Klaus just has a talent for bringing the worst out of people. 

"I shouldn't have done that," Ben says, voice a little stronger, firmer. His hand slides down to rest on the back of Klaus' neck, smoothing down his hair. 

Klaus leans into the touch, shaking his head.

"Neither should have I." 

It's the closest they'll come to an apology. Admitting to being in the wrong meant more than empty words. 

The years spent together taught them that. 

"The others are gonna be so pissed at me for my shitty joke," Klaus groans after another few minutes, Ben and him slowly pulling away from each other. "Speaking of them, shouldn't they be here already? I'm the one who arrives fashionably late to every party, not the other way around. With the exception of Five, I guess. Little bastard never did manage to show up on time." 

Ben, who was trying to spit out a hair from his mouth much to his disgust, startled at that. 

"They're not here," he says. 

Klaus snorts, wiping at his eyes. Tears were gross. "Obviously. Guess it's just you and me for however long it takes them to bite the bullet. Just like the good old times," he teases, winking, ignoring how his own unintentional pun made his chest tighten. 

Too soon, he thinks. Joking about his own death never hurt like this. 

Ben's brows furrowed half-way through and he scrunizes him, something unreadable in his eyes, that sets off red flags in Klaus' mind. 

Oh, fuck no. 

"Spit it out," Klaus demands, taking a step back to poke a finger onto Ben's chest. "C'mon, you're making that weird face again." 

"What face?" Ben says, defensively, tugging the sleeves of his jacket over his wrist.

"That's just how I look." 

"Nope." Klaus shakes his head, tossing his hair over his shoulder, waggling his finger. "Normally, you look two second away from either punching me or wrestling me into a warmer coat. But this–" he gestures to Ben's whole face that turns into a frown. "–this one is the face where you'll say something I won't like and the longer you try to beat around the bush, the worse it's gonna be, I know that, so rip the bandaid off in one clean tug instead of peeling–" 

Ben interrupts him to blurt out, "You can't stay." 

"–it off." Klaus finishes, mind taking a moment to slam into a halt. When it catches back up, his spine grows rigid. "Excuse me? What do you mean I can't stay?" 

Ben actually looks a little wary at his tone of voice, looking off to the side towards the bookshelves. 

"The others need you, Klaus." 

Klaus stares, incredulous. "They're dead, Ben," he says, harshly, panic dampening the regret he feels at seeing his brother wince. "Poof. Gone. What do you want me to do? Go back downstairs to possess the bitch that shot us and take revenge?" 

He can't go back. Not when he's the only one left. There's no reason to go back to nothing when he's got everything he could get right here. 

Screw the little girl. He's staying. 

But Ben as pained as he looks, doesn't back down, head held tall with a backbone of steel. 

"No!" Klaus rejects, stepping away only for Ben to snatch his wrist. "No, no, no, Ben! Listen, if the others aren't here they're ghosts, right? I can't fix ghosts, you know that!" 

What does Ben want him to do? Manifest Five in the hopes he can turn back time to keep them from dying? Call it a hunch, but he's got a feeling that won't work as a ghost. 

Death and time just don't mix well. Much like pills and alcohol. 

"They need you." 

Klaus scoffs, trying to pry off Ben's octopus grip around his wrist. 

"Nobody needs me." 

"Don't say that," Ben snaps, dragging him not towards the door like he thought but to another section of books on a shelf. "Look." 

"At what exactly?" 

Klaus turns to see a row of books, five white ones, one black and in the middle there's a grey one sandwiched between the black and white ones. They appear equally thick, except for the black covered book. He reaches out, pulling the smaller book out of the shelf and turns it around in his hands. 

He drops it a second later, stumbling backwards as Ben bends down to pick it back up. 

"No," he denies, running a hand through hair, tugging slightly. "It's not real. Bullshit. When did you have the time to write your own autobiography? That's Vanya's thing." 

Ben brushes of imaginary dust off the cover, the book small in his hands and narrows his eyes. "I didn't write this." 

_Ben Hargreeves – Number Six – The Horror_

Eyes stuck to the remaining six books, Klaus hesitantly asks, "Which one's mine?" 

Wordlessly, Ben pulls out the grey one. 

Klaus takes it, flipping it open, eyes flying over the words until half-way through, the pages turn blank. 

"Do you get it now?" Ben asks, gently, coming up to stand beside him, his book stuffed under his arm. "My story's been over for a long time. Yours, however, is not. Neither are the others. Not if you don't want them to be." 

"What if I don't want yours to be over?" 

Ben's face turns sad, sympathy smoothing out the edges. "My life as a ghost has been nothing but another chapter in yours." 

Klaus grits his teeth. Thinks about how the books Ben had carried had been all black and decided against asking about them. 

"How?" he asks, nails digging into the grey cover. "How could I save them?" 

He came back to life once, he didn't even want to, back then. What could he, disappointing Number Four, do against death?

He's always been powerless against the dead. 

"I know you can do it." Ben lays a hand onto his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "And if you'd get your head out of your ass, you'd know it too." 

The lights appears to dim, darkness creeping up around the long rows of shelves, slowly crawling closer. 

"It's your power, Klaus, not Dad's or anyone else's." Ben catches his gaze and he's smiling. "Don't you want them to live?" 

Klaus throws him a glare, offended at the implication of thinking his siblings better off dead. "Is that a trick question?" 

"No," Ben's smile widens into a grin. "It's your answer. Go back and do your thing. Tell them none of you assholes are allowed back in here for as long as I say so." 

The walls begin to close in as Ben tugs him forward into another loose embrace, the floor beginning to crumble underneath their feet. 

"You've got this," Ben assures, squeezing him. "Remember, you're the one who needs to look out for the others. Don't let Dad or anyone get in the way of that." 

Klaus opens his mouth, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but Ben lets go, and he's falling as the darkness swallows him whole. 

* * *

It's approximately ten minutes later in the land of the living, that Klaus jerks awake, body twitching while he gasps and lurches upright from the puddle of blood he's laid in. It's cold, half-frozen due to the snow. He looks around, pushing himself up to sit, muscles aching with stiffness as his eyes roam over his family.

His dead family. 

Allison is sprawled out, legs twisted oddly, near Luther's bulky form. There's a blooming red flower staining her black jacket, right over her stomach. Her eyes are closed, one hand reaching out towards his direction whereas Luther looks like he's tried to shield her, a single red flow of a bullet stuck onto his forehead. 

Tearing his eyes away, he finds Vanya on her back, limbs stretched out, an alarming big puddle of blood underneath her back. He can't see her face from this angle but it must have been a clean and quick death for the barn to remain standing. 

Next are Diego and his newest woman, the Commission girlfriend killed by her adopted Mother without hesitation. She'd fit right in with them, on the opposite spectrum of shitty adopted parents. Diego lays crumbled near her feet, face down, eyes wide and bloodshot while Lila lies on her back, chest covered in blood, tears marks frozen onto her cheeks.

Five is the farthest away, an unmoving heap seemingly tossed onto a patch of hay. His skin is corpse pale, fingers half clenched into fists by his sides like he tried to jump and got interrupted. 

He can't see any of their ghosts and it a small comfort as umbridden horror brings his sluggish blood to boil. Klaus heaves to his feet, swaying a bit. There's a dull thud breaking the silence, a gun dropping to the floor. A sharp gasp strikes through the fog of his brain like the bullets must have gone through the flesh of him and his siblings. 

Klaus turns his head to see the Handler staring at him in undisguised horror. 

Fury burns in his chest, stealing the air out of his breath at the sight of her. 

"You shouldn't have done that," he rasps out, spitting out a mouthful of blood to bare his blood-stained teeth in a snarl.

She flinches, ruby red lips parted in shock, while her eyes flicker from his chest to his face and then down onto his balled fists that begin to glow with an un-earthy blue. 

She killed them. Toyed with them and her own daughter for her own sick, power hungry amusement only to toss them away after she got what she wanted. 

All for the sake of power. 

_"It's your power, Klaus."_

If she wanted power, he'd show her. The angry, shrieking hoard of ghosts blocking the exit of the barn behind her back, howling her name, would be happy to help him out. 

With Five out of the way and her stupid briefcase, he technically doesn't stand a chance against her. Not with time on her side.

Five might be the only one out of their bunch of misfits to whom the rules of time didn't apply to, simply because he could break them and bend them to his will, always the first one to stomp on the lines drawn into the sand. He could've beaten her.

But...

Time was Five's doormain. 

And Death was Klaus'.

And in death, time stood still. 

His hands flare brighter, power thrumming under his skin, the icy chill hotter than lava flowing through his veins. 

A quick glance around the room shows him nothing. No ghost of his family to be seen. 

No Allison that would give him a fond smile, telling him to cool it, lest he hurt himself. 

No Luther to shield him from the harsh breeze with his body heat and a firm reminder to dress better for such weather. 

No Diego that would wrap him up in his jacket, threatening to strangle him for making fun of him for caring. 

No Vanya to give him a shy smile, to lean his chin on the top of her head while her cheeks flush happily. 

No Five berating him for standing around like an idiot, telling him to get going if he wants to get things down, bristling around his back like a guard dog seconds away from biting the nearest threat.

No one. He's all alone. She took them away from him, his family left to become one of those horrid, miserable things ghosts became within time. 

All done on a whim, for a teeny tiny bit of power. He breathes out a puff of warm air, scathingly hot between his dry lips. Fury begins to clog up his veins, each pump of blood from his heart filling him with poison so thick he's choking on its bitterness. 

He wants them back. Allison, Five, Vanya, Diego and Luther. Ben is gone, this time for good, but most importantly out of his own free will. 

He can't be alone. But he is, not even with their ghosts for company. 

He wants her dead.

 _Dead, dead, dead,_ his pulse roars in his ears. It must be written all over his face.

Because the Handler shakes herself out of her stupor, panic twisting her face as she lunges for the briefcase foregoing her gun.

Klaus screams, bloodcurdling loud, a sound of grieving rage that tears out of his lungs, exploding from his hands and body like a shockwave.

The briefcase explodes, fire melting its insides as it shatters into pieces. The Handler goes flying backwards as a wave of blue light floods the barn. 

His mind momentarily whitens out with the blue haze of hysteria that swallows him, before the light dies out and he's left, panting for air in sweat soaked skin. 

She's not dead yet. 

She will be soon. 

"You were dead," she shrieks, scrambling on the floor for her gun that got blown away by the shockwave. 

Laughter bubbles out of his chest, broken and brittle. 

"Surprise, bitch," he hisses through clenched teeth, taking a step forward. She shakes and it almost brings a smile onto his face. "I bet you thought you've seen the last of me." 

Behind him there are sharp, gasping intakes of breath that don't make it through the wails of the ghosts and the fog of hot red rage clouding his vision. 

"I killed you," she says, voice accusing. "I fucking killed you!" 

Her reply gets another laugh out of him, an unhinged throaty sound. It spills out like sandpaper rubbing across his tongue, a dry cackle that he doesn't mean to let out at all and can't seem to reel back in. 

Klaus laughs until it's not funny anymore, maybe it never was.

"You cannot kill the willing to die," he says, breathless, walking closer and closer, stopping a foot and a half away, when she grows still, face losing all color. 

She's staring past his waist, eyes wide enough to see the whites around her snow clumped lashes.

 _Kill her, kill her, kill her,_ his mind whispers. 

The ghosts join in. _Klaus,_ they cry, wail, shout. _Klaus, Klaus, Klaus. Kill her!_ they demand, leering as they form a loose circle around her back. 

She swallows, something close to wonder in her eyes when she turns to look at him, no longer searching for her gun like she knows it'd be of no use against him.

"What are you?" she asks, voice trembling.

_"Remember, you're the one who needs to look out for the others."_

"Me?" 

Klaus lips curl upwards into a crooked grin. Something in him uncurls, heating his palms up to a softer blue that matches the flaring glow of his eyes. 

Ghosts begin to appear, corpses manifesting in shapes of tattered and rotten skin as they crowd closer around the Handler, who's face went white from terror. Tremors running up and down her spine. 

They reach out, fingers turning to claws. 

"I'm just the lookout."

With those words, the dead pounce, tearing into the woman that shrieks in fright, blabbing about promises that the dead drown out with their own spit flying screeches of hate.

It goes one for a heartbeat, then two and three and just as Klaus begins to feel dizzy, eyes stinging from more than the icy breeze, a hand settles on his shoulder. 

"Klaus!" a voice yells, near his ear. He doesn't care enough to shake the ghosts off, let them rip him apart. 

He'll come back. He always comes back.

"Klaus, you need to stop!" 

Another set of hands settle on his face, cradling his cheeks in between their small palms. Roughly, his head is forcefully jerked down. 

"It's me, Klaus," the blurry figure in front of him says, urgency coating his words. "It's Five and I'm telling you that you need to stop this. Now. It's over. Don't make me ask again." 

Something in his chest cracks. "Five?" Klaus chokes out, blinking rapidly, eyes losing their glow. Funny, he doesn't remember sitting down in the last few minutes and here he is, Five's ashen face hovering on eye-level. 

"Yeah, it's me," his brother says stiffly, squeezing his cheeks hard enough Klaus' jaw begins to hurt. "Vanya's here too. So, are the others. Now, listen to me _–_ "

"You're dead," he says, numbly. Best to get that little misunderstanding out of the way. Ghosts never took kindly to finding out they'd been in denial about life since meeting him. "You're all dead, Fivey, stuck as a ghost with me for company–" A sob catches in his throat and in the corner of his vision the ghosts begin to flicker.

"Listen!" Five barks out, eyes wild and dark and alive in a way they shouldn't be. "We're not dead. Nor are we ghosts, so calm down and take a deep breath before you pass out." 

_No, no, no._

Klaus shakes his head. "You're dead! She shot us–you. She killed you." 

"And you killed her," Five retorts, and amends at a sharp hiss of what sounds like Vanya. "Indirectly. You can stop." 

The world spins around him and there must be leftover blood in his lungs that he didn't manage to cough up with how they burn. If he stops Five's hands would fall right through him, becoming wisps of smoke and ice chunks sliding down his chest. He can't stop. Can't breath past the lump in his throat. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Five sounds as close to panic as he gets. "Allison!" 

A moment later fingers gently tuck strands of wiry hair matted blood away from his face behind his ear. There's a warm puff of air near his cheek and a voice softly saying, "I heard a Rumor that you calmed down." right into his ear, fingers running through his hair. 

Klaus sucks in a breath, muscles uncoiling as the flickering ghosts disappear from sight. 

"The fuck did your brother just do?" 

A feminine voice pipes up, a nervous giggle slipping through the cracks. 

"I thought the whole hippie Jesus get up was just a fashion statement, not a literal representation of his powers!" 

"Hey," Diego cuts in sharpy, "Be glad you're not dead and back off his case, yeah?" 

"Oh, I'm happy. Just having a little freak out over literally coming back from the dead, y'know?" She huffs out another wheezing noise. "What a bunch of freaks you are." 

"Not like you're any different." 

She falls silent after that. 

Vanys kneels down next to Klaus, a worried frown on her face. "Are you okay?" 

"Just peachy," he croaks out, forcefully calm or rather low-key relaxed from the rumor working its charm. "Y'know aside from waking up surrounded by your corpses to see your murder standing there. Couldn't have a better day if I tried." 

"I'm sorry for rumoring you," Allison says, stroking his hair as Luther comes up beside her, looking worried while flicking off the blood from his forehead. 

"I can hardly stay mad at you for that. Considering you're dead." 

Five makes a frustrated noise, dropping his hands from his cheek to reach for his hand. He presses Klaus hand against his blood coated chest, not letting him pull away. 

"Five," he whines, horrified. 

"Feel my heartbeat." 

"You don't have one!" 

Lila from her place of staring down at the Handler's mauled corpse, let's out an unlady like snort following it with a whistle. 

"Not the sharpest tool in the box, is he?" 

Diego, who hovers nearby torn between making sure Lila doesn't run off and joining the semi-crowd forming around his brother, shoots her a look. 

"We don't exactly look alive right now." 

She shrugs, "Neither does he. I mean, my chest hurts like a bitch but looking at that guy makes me feel like a baby. He looks about to drop dead." 

Feeling the beating of Five's heart under his palm, slowly pulls away, relief rushing to his head, making him tilt forward. 

"Already been there, done that," he says, smiling so widely it hurts as Five catches him, arranging him to lie sprawled across his lap. "Didn't stick." 

Lila actually laughs at that, slightly strained.

"Guy's got humor, not bad." 

Luther shakes his head, attempting to take off his coat to drape it over Klaus' shivering form.

"Don't joke about that, Klaus. God, that's–" 

"God?" Klaus lets Five check his pulse and chest, fighting to keep his eyes open now that the adrenaline wore off. Christ, he's aching everywhere and not in the fun kinda way. "She's gonna be super pissed next time I show up uninvited and Ben and her are gonna gang up on me to kick me out of the afterlife again." 

Someone makes a choking noise. 

"Next time!? What next time _–_ "

"Tell me he's joking. That's a joke, _right_?"

"Did you just say Ben?" 

" _Again_ ? Hang on, hang on, the fuck does that mean _–_ " 

"She?" Allison asks faintly. 

Five merely clicks his tongue. "He's out cold, you idiots. No use asking now." He slaps Klaus' cheeks a few times and he doesn't twitch. 

"But we are, right?" Vanya says. "Asking about what he meant?" 

"Be assured that I will be getting my answers one way or another." Five gestures for Luther to take Klaus off his hands, rolling his neck to hear his bones crack. "But for now, we have other things to worry about." 

He turns, seeing the remaining Swede standing at the entrance of the barn, gun in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Klaus: Does me bringing you all back to life make you zombies? 
> 
> Five: *seriously considering the question*
> 
> Luther: I don't think that's how it works-
> 
> Diego: Let him think what he wants to, we owe him one. 
> 
> Vanya: As long as we don't develop a telepathic bond I'm fine with being a zombie. 
> 
> Klaus: Cool, does coming back to life twice turn me back into a human then? 
> 
> The rest of the Hargreeves siblings: You DiD WhAt--


End file.
